


Incomplete Sketches and Coffee Dates

by Yesimawriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, M/M, Muggle Life, Muggle London, Street artist au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesimawriter/pseuds/Yesimawriter
Summary: It starts off with an interaction with a sassy yet somehow still incredibly attractive customer and an incomplete sketch, and turns into something more than what either of them could have ever imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from a one-shot that I'd written for another one of my beloved OTPs and this was meant to be one too. But then it turned out to be too long and I loved where this story was going and the way Harry and Draco interacted with each other and the way they were, so I decided to make this onto a full blown multi-chapter fic. Enjoy!

Harry adjusted his glasses and pushed his hair away from his face, eyes not moving from the piece of canvas in front of him. They only shifted slightly to the left to acknowledge the woman that he was supposed to be sketching.

“You have a beautiful smile,” he said to her, giving her one of his own heartwarming smiles in return. He could see the reaction his comment had on the woman. She looked quite flustered and blushed a deep red colour. It didn’t matter that he was just doing it for the tips, the complimenting that is, it still made him happy to see how people reacted when he said something really nice about them. It was cute.

Just as he’d suspected, Harry got quite a heavy tip from the woman when he handed her the sketch that he’d drawn of her. He continued as such, drawing sketches and complimenting his customers or talking to them, cracking a joke a couple of times to keep them entertained and to make sure that they weren’t bored. It didn’t matter that he was just a simple sketch artist in the middle of the busy streets of London, his job was much more than that and he’d learned that on his first day working there.

The sky darkened and the sun started to set by the time Harry decided to wait for one last customer. It was still early in the evening and the cold winds were blowing harshly. Harry shivered against the biting cold and suddenly wished that he’d brought a coat or a jacket with him to protect him from the city’s unpredictable weather.

He was pulled out of his thoughts just then by a polite clearing of the throat and looked up to see the most amazing set of grey eyes he’d ever seen. Was it even possible for someone to have that eye colour? He could get lost in those eyes…and the hair! His hair was a shade of blond that was unknown to him, a sort of platinum blond if he had to guess. The boy’s skin was the palest and smoothest that Harry had ever seen, and he immediately wanted to make this beautiful stranger sit down so that he could sketch him.

Another polite clearing of the throat brought Harry out of his reverie yet again and this time it was accompanied by a raised eyebrow. Harry felt heat flaming his cheeks and he was sure that it showed as he realised that he had very obviously been checking this stranger out. This stranger who seemed to wear quite fashionable and expensive clothes and whose silky hair seemed perfectly styled.

Harry made himself look away from him as he found his voice and said, “How may I help you?”

The man still stared at him and Harry couldn’t really decide on what to make of his expressions but he didn’t have to wait long. “Are you still doing the sketches?” He asked. Harry only gave a nod of his head in response, which the man took as an invitation to sit down opposite him. “One of my friends got one the other day for fun and she told me about what a good sketch artist you were, so I thought that I would come check that out for myself.”

Harry didn’t know exactly when he’d lost the ability to speak but he didn’t think it was going to be coming back anytime soon. This seemed to slightly irritate the man who then said, “Look if you’re not free or have to go home or something you can just say so, but don’t waste my time by sitting there and staring at me without saying a word.”

That was when Harry suddenly regained the ability to speak. “I-sorry, I just-thank you, to your friend I mean, for saying those nice things about me. I’m sorry about not saying anything and staring at you, but-” Harry felt slightly shy and embarrassed at the words that would be coming out of his mouth now, “you’re beautiful.”

Whatever response Harry had been expecting to get, this hadn’t been one of them. The man simply huffed and rolled his eyes, waving a hand at him, dismissively. “Well, alright then, get sketching. I can already tell that this one’s going to be a masterpiece.” _The bastard actually dared to smirk at him._

Harry felt his deeply buried stock of sass clawing out and trying to break free of its restraints as he narrowed his eyes at him. “You do know that the quality of the piece depends on the sketch artist and not the subject that he’s supposed to be sketching, right?” He looked at the man innocently with a sweet smile on his face.

The man’s smirk widened and he replied with, “I actually have to disagree with you there. You see, the more beautiful the person, the better the quality of the sketch since the artist doing the sketching has more material to work with.”

“What material?” Harry asked with a scoff. He had a distinct feeling that he’d fallen into some kind of trap as the man’s eyes glinted. He’d been expecting Harry to ask that question, Harry realised a little too late.

“Beauty, of course. Beauty and grace, coupled with my dashing good looks and handsome features-that’s all you need to make a masterpiece,” the man said with a wink.

Harry had no fucking clue how to respond to that because on the one hand the man wasn’t lying and Harry had to agree, but on the other this guy was a bit too full of himself and Harry was extremely tempted to make some sort of a scathing remark. He was kept in check by his knowledge of the fact that this man was his customer and could give him a lot of money for said masterpiece. He also had no fucking clue about whether this guy was being flirty, what with the wink and everything, or if he really was just full of himself.

“What’s your name?” He settled on asking instead, surprising himself and the grey-eyed man.

“Draco Malfoy. And yours?”

The question, though unexpected, had Harry smiling a genuine smile this time.

“Harry Potter.”


	2. Chapter 2

In all of his years working as a street artist, nobody had ever him asked for his name. Plenty had come close, but none ever as genuine or truly interested in knowing it. So here sat the grey-eyed, blond-haired handsome man just nodding his head to Harry’s answer like he hadn’t just revealed something about himself to the man that he had never made known to any other customer before.

Harry picked up a piece of charcoal without even thinking about it, and started to sketch out the man, Draco-Harry reminded himself to call him.

“Are you from around here, then?” Draco asked, taking Harry yet again, by surprise. His customer, Draco, was actually asking him a question which meant that he was initiating a conversation between them. Well, that was certainly new.

“Yes actually. My parents have lived in Bath nearly all their lives but I had to move to London to complete my education. What about you?” Harry’s eyes flitted up to look into Draco’s for a few seconds before he continued with his sketching. He found it worrying, though, how his focus hadn’t shifted from Draco. It was like he was sketching absentmindedly, eyes glazed and ears tuned into Draco’s voice.

“My parents moved here from France sometime after they got married but before I was born,” Draco said, and Harry was sure by now that he was paying absolutely no attention to the sketch or his sketching for that matter. Draco seemed to be thinking out loud when he said, “Bath, isn’t that near here?”

“Well, it’s a couple of hours drive from here.” Harry informed him, brows furrowed as he tried and failed yet again to concentrate on sketching Draco to perfection. “So what do you do, exactly? Are you a uni student, do you have a job?”

When Harry’s question was accompanied by silence, he worried that he’d gone too far, that he had gone way past the line that had to be drawn between the customer and himself. He had already crossed it with the questions he’d asked and answered but now he had perhaps gone a bit too far.

As Harry finally dared to look up, he noticed that Draco’s shoulders were shaking. He looked up completely confused before it registered in his brain. _Draco Malfoy was laughing._ But what was he laughing at? Was it Harry or something else entirely?

“What is it? Did I say something wrong?” Harry asked.

Draco shook his head at him, and Harry pretended to be annoyed and pissed off. He tried not to show how mesmerized he was by the scene in front of him and how much he wanted Draco to continue laughing, even if it was at Harry’s own expense. “No, it’s just-just that-I mean I’m pretty sure you aren’t paying attention to what you’re supposed to be doing. Have you even started with the sketch?”

 _Oh,_ so he had noticed. Harry huffed indignantly and looked over at his sketch which he had _of course_ started with _ages ago_. It was an absolute mess. Draco was right, again.

It must have showed on his expressions because Draco took a quick look down at his watch and said, “You know what, never mind the sketch, I have to go. It was nice talking to you, though, and quite entertaining if I’m being honest. I haven’t had a good banter with anybody for a shamelessly long amount of time. I’m going to have to thank Pansy for this.” Although he muttered the last part more to himself than to Harry, he heard it anyway and felt his cheeks heat up.

Great. So Harry had not only blown up on the chance to talk to this man and get to know him, because he’d been so tongue-tied and taken with him, he had also wasted his time and was now flustered at the slightest hint of a compliment.

Harry forced himself to speak. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get to complete the sketch, and that you don’t have enough time for me to do that now. I would’ve liked to get to know you more. I mean, I enjoyed out talk too,” Harry blurted out, being a lot more honest than he was supposed to. He could feel Draco’s gaze on him.

“Look you don’t need to worry about that sketch. I might come by some other time and get it done,” Draco said with a shrug. He pulled his bag onto his shoulder, ready to get going.

“Could I instead, maybe-like get your number and just-so I could tell you when I finish sketching you, maybe?” Harry didn’t know whether he was making any sense at all. He just knew that felt pathetic with the way that he sounded so hopeful right then. He felt his heart already starting to break at the thought of this interesting man outright rejecting him.

“Is this how you treat all of your customers?” Draco asked him. Harry’s face had already started to heat up from the embarrassment and the humiliation, but it stopped when he noticed that Draco had an expression of incredulity on his face, not one of disgust or some equally negative emotion.

So he gathered his wits once again and decided to be brave just one more time. “Honestly, no. It’s just you,” he admitted. “I don’t like leaving things unfinished.”

“Are you referring to your sketch or to our little talk?” Draco asked and Harry really didn’t know the answer to that. Draco smiled at that, giving his head a slight shake as he stepped forward and took Harry’s hand in his.

Harry looked up at him with wide-full-blown eyes as Draco held it gently, took out a pen from his coat pocket, holding it’s lid carefully between his teeth, and pressed the tip to Harry’s palm. He wrote his number in a smooth gliding motion and then with another smooth motion, pushed the pen lid back in its place.

“Also, since you’ve already indicated that we will be meeting once again-” Harry’s jaw dropped when he saw Draco shrugging his coat off and taking a small step so that he was standing next to Harry, draping the coat across his shoulders. “-you can give me back my coat the next time we meet.”

The coat was warm and soft and fluffy, a complete contradiction to how Harry had been feeling. He felt so much better with the coat on, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept Draco’s offering. He couldn’t have that on his conscience. “Draco, I can’t-”

“Oh just keep it, Potter. You look like shit, like hell frozen over, so I’m just doing everybody a favour and making you slightly better to look at.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, tempted to give a response that was just as biting, but he could feel the heat from Draco’s coat surrounding his body already and he couldn’t really bring himself to say anything like that to him. “Fine, Malfoy! I’ll give you the sketch _and_ your coat the next time we meet.”

“You also owe me a coffee, Potter,” Draco added. “For allowing you to waste my precious time, of course.” _Of fucking course! And the smug bastard was smirking at him again._

“ _Fine, Malfoy!_ It’s a fucking date,” Harry snapped out before he’d even registered the words. He turned around, curious to note Draco’s response, but he was already gone to wherever he was supposed to go.

Harry huffed out a sigh of relief until he saw what Draco had written on the piece of paper where Harry had attempted to sketch Draco.

_Your words, Potter, not mine. ;)_

He was going to kill him. He was going to kill Draco fucking Malfoy.


End file.
